An Unexpected Enemy
by Zana Zira
Summary: Because as if it isn't bad enough that every monster they hunt tries to choke the life out of Sam, now even things that have nothing to do with the supernatural are trying to do it. Limp!Sam, Awesome!Cas. No slash. Set in Season 9, Episode 11, but no spoilers. Written for a prompt on LJ.


**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.**

**A/N: This was written for a prompt that I requested on LJ, and decided to fill myself since I couldn't resist the idea. **

**Ironically, someone else filled it too, right as I was finishing mine up. ****Hers is called "It Won't Go Down" and can be found at: lauehime dot livejournal dot com (slash) 9818 dot ****html ?thread (equals)114522 (pound sign) t114522 .**

**Go read it after you finish this one - it's really good!**

* * *

"Tastes like… molecules," Castiel muttered to himself right when Sam was walking in through the bunker's front door.

"What?" Sam made his way down the stairs into the main room with a bag full of groceries from the local convenience store, staring at his friend in confusion once he had set them on the table. He was used to Castiel saying some strange things – that was pretty much this particular angel's M.O., after all – but this was too weird even for Sam to understand. "What're you talking about?"

"When I was human, I had to eat constantly. It was actually pretty annoying."

He said it with such a straight face that Sam couldn't help but grin a little, even though he thought he should probably have been slightly offended. "Yeah, lots of human things are pretty annoying."

"But," Castiel cut him off, "I enjoyed the taste of peanut butter with grape jelly. Not jam – jam I found unsettling."

"So what, now you can't taste PB&J?" Sam asked, chuckling a little at how Cas was probably the only person he knew who would make such a distinction between fruit spreads.

"No, I can taste every molecule."

"Not the sum of its parts, huh?

Castiel shook his head and licked a tiny bit of peanut butter off the tip of his index finger, grimacing immediately afterward. "It's overwhelming. It's disgusting." He sighed, staring mournfully at the sandwich held in his hands. "I miss you, PB&J." Resigned to being forever unable to taste food again, he set the sandwich back on the plate, standing up and pushing his chair back from the table as if to get as far away from the offending piece of food as possible.

"Well, if you'll excuse me Sam," he said over his shoulder as he started to walk toward the main hallway that would lead him to the bunker's myriad of unexplored rooms, "I think I'll go read through some of the archives again for a while. There might be something in there that can help us locate Gadreel."

"Knock yourself out," Sam answered, sitting down at the table and opening one of the beers he'd bought at the convenience store. He really hadn't needed a six-pack, but then Dean would usually have easily drunk that many beers in only a few hours; it was just a well-ingrained habit to buy some even though Dean wasn't here. He took a sip and placed the bottle back on the table, hurriedly putting the others away so he wouldn't have to be constantly reminded of the fact that there would be no one but him to drink them now.

On his way back to his chair, Sam's eyes rested on the lone sandwich sitting on a plate on one edge of the table. It wasn't anything spectacular, just peanut-butter and jelly between two slices of white bread, but for some reason it sounded really good right now. Plus, it would be a shame to waste food when neither the Winchesters nor Castiel actually had jobs to pay for food. Credit card scams and hustling pool only allowed for so much frivolous spending, especially on things not related to the hunt. It could be argued that booze wasn't essential for the hunt either, but Dean's borderline dependence on the stuff was a can of worms Sam had absolutely no desire to get into right now.

Deciding that there really wasn't a better alternative, Sam sat down and picked up the sandwich, taking a small bite to taste it since he hadn't eaten one of these in years. It was surprisingly wonderful. Neither the peanut butter nor the jelly was layered too thickly, and the piece of bread that was covered in jelly had become saturated with the sugary sweetness, a slight stickiness bleeding through where the bread was starting to turn purple.

Immediately Sam sighed with pleasure, remembering back to all the times Dean had made these for him as a kid. He had thought his older brother was some kind of magician back then, able to make something so good for him and make it look so easy. Even when he'd grown old enough to make them for himself, they only really tasted right when Dean made them. And years later, when Jess used to make them for him as a quick snack between classes, they took on a whole new layer of sentimental value that he'd almost forgotten about until right this moment.

Sam was midway through the sandwich and had just taken an enormous bite of the sweet, gooey treat when he suddenly heard a loud slam of metal on metal from down the hall. Intellectually he knew that it was just Castiel shutting the door to one of the archives too loudly – after all, he and Dean did that all the time. But for some reason, today the noise startled him quite a bit, and before he knew what had happened he gasped sharply, the sound cutting off abruptly as the bit of sandwich he had been eating caught firmly in his windpipe.

_Oh, crap._

Sam swallowed once, twice, and nothing felt any different. He slapped his chest and tried to cough, tried again and again to gag or retch or anything to get the bit of sandwich to move out of his throat, but the sticky dough and peanut butter weren't budging enough for him to do so. Heart starting to race with panic, he reached for the beer, realizing with dismay that it was completely empty when he put it to his lips and tried to take a sip.

_Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Someone help me I can't breathe…_

"C… sss…" he squeaked, knowing the angel probably couldn't hear the pitiful attempt at calling for him. Black dots began dancing in front of his eyes as his hands wrapped around his throat, fingers kneading his neck and trying in vain to massage the obstruction back up toward his mouth enough that he could cough it out. His blood was roaring in his ears, heartbeat throbbing painfully in his throat as the muscles spasmed again and again in an attempt to get rid of the intruder they knew shouldn't be sitting there.

Finally, too weak to struggle anymore and with tears of hopelessness and panic streaming from his eyes, Sam dropped to his knees, waiting for the blackness to claim him for one last time and hoping it would at least be quick.

* * *

"_C…sss…_"

Castiel had just left the archives with a few heavy books in his hands, and he was planning to head back to the library to read over them and see if he could gain any valuable insight on how Gadreel might be masking himself. If he just knew that, he might be able to track his wayward brother down before he could cause any more trouble. But when his ears picked up a barely perceptible, very airy sound, he froze in place to listen more closely.

"Sam?" the angel asked quietly, thinking he had heard his name whispered from the kitchen. But why would Sam be whispering now? He always called for Dean or Cas loudly when they were here, since they might be quite a distance away and many of the rooms in the bunker were partially soundproofed. So maybe he had only imagined it.

Still, something was nagging at him now, a feeling that Sam might really need him or be in some kind of trouble. Spinning on his heel, he jogged to the kitchen where Sam was eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had abandoned a minute ago.

Or, at least, that's what he was supposed to have been doing.

Cas stared at Sam in confusion for a few precious seconds, not comprehending why the youngest Winchester would suddenly be on the ground with his hands around his throat. And then Sam's wide, wet eyes landed on the angel and he squeaked again, mouth gaping like a fish's as he struggled to pull in air without success and his hands scrabbled against his throat again. His skin looked pale, almost gray, and his lips were tinged a light lavender color.

It clicked a moment later, and Castiel dropped the books to the floor an instant before he was at Sam's side, touching two fingers to his neck to clear the obstruction away. But for some reason, nothing changed with his touch. Sam continued to gag and choke, and Castiel felt the first brief flutter of panic when he realized that for whatever reason, he could not access his stolen grace now, when he needed it most. Apparently he was just going to have to save Sam the way another human would, or else watch his friend die in front of him, and the second option was not acceptable in any way.

"Sam, don't fight me," he said calmly as he got behind the younger man. "I'm going to need you to stand."

Grunting at how heavy Sam felt without his angelic strength to aid him, Cas hauled him to his feet, leaning back slightly so that Sam's almost limp body was supported by his own. Then he wrapped his arms around Sam's middle, curling one hand into a fist and placing it just above his bellybutton with the other on top of it. Using the strength the adrenaline was sending through his suddenly almost-human body, he thrust his hands in and up once, twice, three times, until finally Sam jerked forward and coughed weakly, the piece of sandwich falling to the floor between his feet.

Sighing in relief, Cas held Sam up and helped him sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, his own chest aching as Sam whooped in several deep breaths and coughed roughly, color instantly beginning to return to his lips and face. Almost instinctually, Cas placed his hand on Sam's back, rubbing up and down as he fought to catch his breath.

"Thanks, Cas… Thank you…" Sam rasped when he'd finally gotten enough air back to speak. His hands were shaking when Castiel got up and handed him a glass of water, and he sipped it very carefully, wincing with each swallow as if it hurt.

"You're welcome, Sam," Cas answered calmly, although his heart was still racing as he sat down in another chair beside his friend. If he'd decided to ignore his instincts, and gone into the library instead… He shook his head, willing those unpleasant thoughts away. Sam was alive, and that was all that mattered. "Are you alright now, Sam?"

"Yeah, thanks to you. But how… How did you know what to do just now?" Sam asked, his eyes still bright from the tears that had been in them but filled with nothing but amazed curiosity now. "That isn't something every human just knows, and since angels don't eat I really doubt you learned it in Heaven."

Castiel shook his head, smiling fondly at whatever memory he was seeing when he answered.

"When I first became human, I could barely do anything on my own. I didn't know how to find water, how to cross the street, or even how to sleep, and I was always so hungry I ate anything I could get my hands on as fast as I could, before anyone could steal it. One day when I was eating a meal at the homeless shelter, I had an experience very similar to what just happened to you. Someone I had never even spoken to before saved my life that day, and he taught me how to do the same, so I could 'pay it forward,' as he said. What he showed me didn't seem to make much sense at the time, but I'm very glad for it now."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, swallowing hard again when he realized just how lucky he was to have Castiel staying here. "Me too. Oh, and Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Now I don't think either of us are gonna be eating PB&Js anymore."


End file.
